Dreamwalking
by HayashiOkami
Summary: A politician sells his son, who is cursed to walk in others' dreams, to the Diclonius Institute run by the government where researchers are trying to find a way to control Diclonius without the huge loss of life involved in killing one. What he doesn't expect is for his son to have a will of his own or that he would come to harbor one of the abominations the government pursues.


**Dreamwalking**

_In an effort to curb the growing Diclonius threat a group of scientists makes a deal with Kaneyama Hideki, a politician from the remote mountains of Kochi Prefecture. He agrees to give them his only son, a young man afflicted by an ancient ancestral curse, in return for a seat on the National Diet._

_What Kaneyama Hideki did not expect was for his son to have a free will of his own or that he would soon come to harbor one of the very abominations the government pursues._

**Prologue**

Even though spring is finally upon us it's still a little cold outside, especially at night. In the living room a small family laughs and chatters over tea, snacks, and a comedy airing on TV. They speak aimlessly at each other, voicing conversations that have been held hundreds of times in the past.

I watch them with stirring jealousy and no small amount of wonder. It must be boring to always talk about the same inane topics as they progress through their daily routines day after day. They are as content as mindless beasts functioning on instinct alone. And that itself must be a form of happiness.

It baffles me how anyone can be happy living inside a muted, solitary cage like that. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of something _different_, a spark of discontentment that says otherwise. But if people are so miserable inside, then why don't they try to break out of that cage? Human beings are supposed to be the superior species on this planet, but they can't even save themselves.

I slide the heavy glass door open a crack and all three heads turn in my direction, the same pleasant smiles stretched across their faces as always. The mother beckons me inside, enunciating the obvious: it's cold outside even though it's spring. A chilled breeze pushes at my back as she waves from within the warm cocoon of a home.

But I can't go inside even if I'm invited. It's not a place where I belong, no matter how hard they try to assimilate me. As always I'm an intruder in their lives, so distant from them that I sometimes wonder what they have to gain by accepting a strange, disturbed foster child into their home in the first place.

I mirror their empty smiles and shake my head, closing the door again. As I settle against the side of the house, a long scraggly arm drifts over to retrieve the ball Takara and I had been playing with before dinner. The appendage lingers for a moment before I release it, the ball falling into my hands. It's a harmless gesture, but a shiver still runs down my spine as I glance about the quiet neighborhood.

Everyone just assumes that my parents' murders made me withdraw into this quiet, despondent shell. Since I told the police that I couldn't see the man who did it from where I was hidden and that my memories of that night were blurry at best, few questioned my current behavior.

The hands drift before my face, harmless for the moment. An unpleasant tingle from the night my parents died returns for just a second and disappears as soon as I retract the translucent arms.

I'm a murderer. An anguished little moan escapes from my throat, but I bite it back and clench my fists – my corporeal fists – until they hurt. And yet, no matter how I try to rationalize it, I can't bring myself to feel guilt over any death except for that of my parents.

People live such empty lives anyways. Shouldn't it be a relief to be released from all of those self-imposed restraints and duties? If humans really do live like beasts though, then simply being alive is what makes them happy. In either case I'm a murderer.

But I can't feel too bad for it, not like how I turn physically ill at the sight of my parents' corpses in my memories. Sometimes I want so badly to just convince myself that a stranger killed them that night and that I was lucky I survived.

Except, I don't think I'm very lucky to have survived. And maybe that is why I can't feel sorry for those I've killed since then. After my parents died, I had no reason to desire life anymore. I live for the sake of being alive, but it brings me no joy.

**Chapter 1:** The Faustian Contract

Outside the town murmured, the quiet babble of a brook embraced on all sides by rolling mountains and an endless, impenetrable forest. A thin road twirling through the safest passes had brought these visitors here today, where they unanimously convened in a conference room at the town hall. A simple layout of tea was set before them, but the cups cooled without a single touch.

The slightly aged Kaneyama Hideki fingered the thin, flimsy, yet highly classified documents proffered to him by the smooth and leery scientists who accompanied one of his associates from Tokyo. He was no longer in his prime and it took considerable effort to read the papers without strain, but he was not senile enough to reject the offer that Oshiro Taro proposed a little over a month ago.

In a brightly lit hotel room with wide glass windows looking out over the expanse of the Tokyo metropolis, Oshiro Taro had given him an offer he could not refuse: a seat on the National Diet. He would visit in a few weeks' time to complete the terms, but come next election Kaneyama was assured that long coveted position he thought a small town politician like him would never acquire.

That same man sat before him, nearly a decade younger than himself but for all intents and purposes an old, old man from Kaneyama's position across the round table. A grave, lined expression wrapped around his face like a skintight mask. He gave Kaneyama an expression that said, "I take no joy out of this deal, none at all".

"I've certainly heard rumors about the massacres and serial killings, but _this _is…" Kaneyama drew in a breath that reminded him of his younger days, when chain smoking was the only thing keeping him from an aneurism or two.

He wanted to protest, _why haven't we ever heard anything about this before_, but the rational side of him said, _of course the public can't know about it!_ It would incite panic, desperation, and fear, a whole cocktail of disasters.

"Understand that this is highly classified information. You mustn't tell anyone about the…research we are undertaking and I'm sure you understand the consequences should any of it leak to the public." Oshiro Taro drew his lips into a thin line and closed his eyes briefly. "In truth, there is little the government can do but continue to support the effort to apprehend, imprison, and study these…Diclonius."

For the first time one of the scientists, a balding man with sharp, narrow eyes spoke. He motioned to the file spread out across the table and grimaced.

"There is still much we can't tell you, but know that these Diclonius are a very real threat. They are hardwired to kill humans once they hit the age of three years or so and can easily cut straight through entire buildings without breaking a sweat." He motioned to the sections expanding upon the experiments preformed at the laboratory. "We keep a number of them for experimentation at various institutes across Japan.

"One of our goals is to create a vaccine to prevent the spread of the Diclonius virus. Once infected, any human who procreates will inevitably produce a Diclonius instead of a human baby. As you seem to have realized, this will soon become a problem on a massive scale if it is not contained."

Kaneyama flipped through a series of impossible photographs, all black and white copies of nude young girls and women with sets of bold white protrusions on their heads. They sliced through human bodies with ease and deflected metal cannonballs weighing tons away from their bodies.

"However, we cannot settle for preventing the virus from spreading in the future. We must also have a countermeasure for controlling these…creatures once they are in captivity or at large. We have lost a number of staff members in the past year alone," the scientist admitted. "Only certain types of ammunition can penetrate their defenses. While it is wholly possible to exterminate them, the costs are great to kill just _one_ Diclonius, never mind all of them in existence."

"It's like a walking nuclear bomb…" Kaneyama trailed off, glancing up at the scientist for approval. The grim frown confirmed his fears. "But surely, before they reach three years you can…?"

The scientist exchanged an uncomfortable stare with his colleagues. Although he seemed exceedingly reluctant to say anything, he finally murmured, "We make sweeps of the hospitals. But there are those that slip through the cracks."

Another scientist picked up, a nondescript middle aged man with a bland, flat tone of voice.

"We are looking into genetic and social conditioning, but then Hashimoto-san, formerly from Kochi Prefecture like yourself, came forth and told us about another impossible power that exists in this world. He directed us to your family, Kaneyama-san."

Kaneyama allowed his eyes to close for five seconds as he drew in deep, controlled breaths and steadied the palpitations in his chest. His hands were curled into considerate fists before him, trembling as his mind traced over the quiet town his family had always inhabited. Tucked away into the forest at the base of the mountain was the main branch's home, a place shrouded in perpetual shadows from the surrounding trees.

"Do you know the nature of my family's curse?" he finally asked with considerable strain. It was so unusual for him to think of his family at a time like this, while he was immersed in politics and the outside world. He didn't even want to remember that house just across town now.

It was Oshiro who spoke this time, at first with fondness as he recalled the retired representative from Kochi. Evidently, the scientists also knew the secret.

"That it is an ancient curse and that it grants you the ability to walk in others' dreams, remove your spirit from your earthly body, and even control the minds of others," Oshiro said in full faith of what he was saying. The three beside him were less assured that what he spoke of were at all possible in reality. Kaneyama saw the doubt limbering on their faces and wished that he could react in the same manner.

"Among other things," Kaneyama sighed with a sudden, violent urge for a smoke or some alcohol. Strange, considering that he had given up smoking years ago. "It affects one child from the main bloodline at a time. It's impossible to have two children born with the curse, even if they are twins. I'm still surprised that he told you; it's a closely guard secret in this community."

Kaneyama fixed the other occupants of the room with a hard stare, lingering on each for a few long seconds before lowering his gaze to the documents in front of him. It had to be dire for the man to have told outsiders of the curse. Most of the people who lived in this town were unaware that it had ever existed.

"So what is the price to pay for that position?" he asked at last, although the answer was all but written out in legal documents and ready for him to sign. His stomach lurched like it hadn't in ages. When was the last time a man of his standing had been this nervous about a business transaction? If anything, he should have felt exuberated.

Instead he felt like he was coming down with a cold.

"Your son is the one who is cursed, is he not?" Oshiro stated.

"And by that look on your face…" said the third scientist.

Kaneyama grimaced. "How can I be anything but ashamed?" he rasped. "When you see him, you'll understand what that curse does and why we call it a curse instead of a gift."

"You do understand what you are agreeing to, Kaneyama-san?" Oshiro disregarded the eager grins on the scientists' faces and fixed the other man with a hard stare that by no means judged him, but implored that he carefully consider whether or not he would come to regret this later on. It asked him to understand that he would be agreeing to sell his son's life for a coveted position in the government.

It was so petty.

What normal parents would ever consent to such a grotesque deal? That had been Oshiro's concern when the retired representative first told him about the fantastical legend surrounding the Kaneyama family. But the old man had smiled a wry, perhaps morose, smile and reassured him that Kaneyama Hideki would accept the proposal.

When asked how many children he had, after all, the man always responded with "two daughters". Oshiro had no idea that the man had any other kids before this whole ordeal came up.

"Of course," he responded brusquely. With decisive movements he laid the classified documents back into their folder and pushed it across the table, glancing over the untouched cup of tea privy to this conversation as if it offended him. The scientists' grins had faded into more appropriate expressions, but he still fixed them with a calculating stare.

Everything would fall out of his control after this; that he was sure of. So he had to make these moments count, make sure he would enter this contract with absolutely nothing to regret.

"I do have two conditions," he addressed the men. At Oshiro's assenting nod he continued. "Don't misinterpret my words and take offense when I say this, but I have now seen what you do to these…Diclonius. I understand perfectly well that such levels of violence may be necessary."

"More than a little necessary," the first scientist gritted out. Kaneyama inclined his head towards the man in acknowledgement.

"Nonetheless, one condition is this: that you do not allow any unnecessary harm come to my son, either physical or mental. I assure you that whatever you may have planned for him," he said sharply and with a hint of paternal aggression he hadn't know he was capable of possessing, "will not require any violence on your part. You will understand better when you see him, but know that he isn't a difficult boy to deal with.

"As for my other condition: you must allow him to access to his cousin at least once a month, wherever you please," he concluded to the wary confusion of the scientists and Oshiro. "I don't care to go into the details now. If _you_ want to accept these conditions, then I shall tell you all you need to know when you come to collect him."

Kaneyama Hideki, in all his years of underhanded politics, never imagined himself in such a position. He had plans to marry his daughters off to influential families, but the thought of relinquishing either of them to men such as these was unthinkably horrid and left a vile taste in his mouth. In a similar, but much less violent way, he had never expected to speak of his son to anyone outside the family let alone under these conditions.

It was Oshiro he focused his intense determination on, despite his conflicting feelings over the origin of such _care_ for the wellbeing of his son. He couldn't even be sure that they would stay true to the agreement in the future or that he would have any power to stop them if they didn't. Those eyes were the eyes of sly foxes batting screeching mice around for entertainment, the eyes of people who saw only the end goal.

Perhaps Kaneyama wasn't much different from these men, as much as he would have liked to think himself a bit more superior to these knowledge hungry scientists.

Oshiro thought for a long moment, consulted with the other three, and exchanged harsh, whispered words with them before he turned back to Kaneyama.

"Alright, Kaneyama-san, we accept your conditions. We will return in three days to draw up the papers and retrieve your…_son_, if that time suits you. The only thing we ask of _you _is that you not inquire after the specifics of these men's research. Of course, none of this conversation leaves the room, as you already know.

"As for your family…" Oshiro paused, turning his head towards the scientists for confirmation. "You may tell your family that he will be participating in _important_ research, but no more. If any of this…business…leaks to the general public one day, then you have permission to tell them if you so choose."

"That will be fine," Kaneyama said thickly with a stiff bow. He stood on equally stiff legs and picked up his leather briefcase. "Three days is sufficient. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting to attend shortly."

"Of course," Oshiro said as he returned the gesture.

Kaneyama stepped from the room with an immense sigh of relief. The temperature in that room had been blissfully cool compared to the hallway, but he felt that he had been suffocating in there regardless. Outside, the summer sun beat down across the town and mountains relentlessly, casting a thick warm haze over the distant horizon. But even that would have been preferable to the thick tension that had built up in the conference room.

As he walked down the hall, Kaneyama found with morbid concern that he couldn't even muster a smile of satisfaction in the wake of such advancement in his career. He had thought this moment would be glorious, happy at least, but now he only felt the burden of facing his family at home.

And in particular, that boy he saw as the son he could never have – his dead brother's son – the one who was not a shame upon the family, but their pride.

* * *

• This is technically a rewrite of _So, the Cicadas Return_, because I fail and didn't plan for the rest of the story besides the opening scenes. The characters are also quite different in this version and there's a lot more...well, EL stuff going on from the offset. Thanks still goes out to Rocci who kinda inspired me to write _Cicadas_ in the first place.

• The National Diet is the Japanese legislative body, something like the American Congress I suppose. Well, it's a big deal to get elected to it.

• Surprisingly (or maybe unsurprisingly), this version was inspired by the anime _From the New World/Shinsekai Yori _in which people develop psychokinetic powers with massively destructive capabilities. The first few minutes reminded me of EL; a kid just goes around blowing the heads off people in the city for no apparent reason. Well, TV Tropes described the people in this world as walking nuclear bombs waiting to go off so I got this idea. It's a really good series and deals quite a bit with this "controlling of powers" idea the scientists in this story are trying to create.


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